


What An Experience

by ladydragon76



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7326151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> “Experience sticks” are available to the public so they can plug in and live the porn star’s (heavily edited) experience during a film.  When Whirl gets his pincers on one of Blurr's from back in his Racer heyday, he thinks he's hit the jackpot.  Who would be lucky enough to find an experience stick this far from Cybertron and after so many vorns of war <i>and</i> starring a mech that loves to interface as much as Blurr?  Whirl, that's who.  Lucky, lucky Whirl!  Only… not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What An Experience

**Author's Note:**

> **'Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Whirl/Blurr  
>  **Warnings:** Non-con, Sticky  
>  **Notes:** Sparkbeat’s fault. Jenn enabled. My muse cackled and ran with it. Part of the summary is using Spark's words because they were so perfect, so thank you, Spark!  <3

Glee blasted through Whirl's field as he spotted the experience stick. What the frag was _this_ little beauty doing way out here on some alien-run space station? "I haven't seen one of these in a long fragging time," Whirl said to the air as he reached out to pick it up.

"No?" the organic shopkeeper said, oozing up from a pocket dimension near as Whirl could tell. It was reaching too, going for the experience stick, but like Pit was Whirl playing that game.

Whirl's reach was longer than any of the alien's six arms, and he snatched up the experience stick with a pincer before the shopkeeper had a chance. The price tag was stuck to the back, and Whirl had to clamp down hard on his reaction. "Five shanix?!" It was all he could do not to dance a jig of glee and make the words sound insulted rather than giddy. These things were worth at least ten times that back before the war, and that was for the less popular movies. It was damn near priceless now, regardless who was in it. "Serious?" he added with a snort though, yellow optic turning down to face the organic. Alas, the pro and con of not having a face- it helped hide expressions he didn't want seen, but then it also didn't let him play up the disbelief. "Bit overpriced don't you think?"

The alien huffed, its two lowest arms planting hands on narrow little hips. "I'll have you know that I sold one just a few standards ago for _ten_ shanix to a-"

"Chump? Yeah, I bet." Whirl shook his helm and looked down at the stick. He almost squealed when he saw the etching on the side. Blurr?! This was one of _Blurr's_?! Oh frag! Oh joy! Oh Primus pinch him, he was dreaming! Whirl was going to have so damn much fun once he plugged this baby in! Scratch it being worth ten times the price. Blurr was never not popular. His experience sticks had been _well_ out of Whirl's budget.

Whirl cycled his vents so he could heave a heavy sigh. "Tell ya what. I'll give ya two for it. Could get these back in the day for half a cred. So two shanix is more than generous."

"Two!" Wide-set, big round eyes went wider. "That's an insult!"

"No, asking five shanix for this is an insult. Ripping a mech off for ten is just shady business." Whirl made to put the stick back on the shelf. "I'll be sure to spread the word about how overpriced your slag is."

"Four!" the shopkeeper yelped. "Four shanix, and it's yours."

Whirl snorted, pincer hovering over the shelf, just ready to let go of the experience stick and walk out. Look, shopkeeper, look closely at how ready he was to leave. "I'd come up ta three, but even then, I'm not sure I want it that much. It's novel, sure. But seriously? I could be spending that on engex."

A thin whine left the shopkeeper, and Whirl shrugged and turned to look at his pincer, like he was just checking to be sure the stick would hit the shelf when he dropped it. "Alright three!" it said. "On one condition!"

Whirl drew his arm and the experience stick back toward his body. "What condition?"

"That if asked, you say you paid ten."

Whirl gave it a moment's thought then said, "I could do that." He could. He was totally capable. He likely _wouldn't_ , but he _could_.

The shopkeeper gave him a weird wink and smarmy grin as it pulled out the chit scanner. Whirl double checked that the amount was three shanix with nothing else tacked on, then tapped his cred chip on the screen. It blinked a cheerful green and chimed a happy little beep. "Thank you for your patronage."

"Yeah, sure." Whirl tucked the stick away and moseyed out of the shop. Once he was out of sight, he whooped and dashed back to the ship. Screw shore leave! He had one of _Blurr's_ porn flick experience delights burning a hole in his subspace, and he'd bought it for a steal! All he needed was his berth, then he could plug in and enjoy a good frag from the Racer's point of view. He'd be lost in the replacement sensations in no time.

"Frag it, Whirl!" Twin Twist shouted as Whirl blew past him, knocking him into a wall.

"I got an experience stick!" Whirl crowed, bouncing off a wall himself. He was less adept at cornering than Blurr, but who cared? He was going to have such a nice night.

Whirl locked his door, shut off his comms, and even went so far as to log his location for Kup and Springer so they wouldn't get all fussy at him when they couldn't reach him. _Then_ he plopped himself on his berth and took out the experience stick to admire it.

It was clearly used. There were scratches on the casing and the color had worn from the edges of the little rectangular device, but it was his! Along the longer side, etched in fancy script was the name of the movie.

**One Lucky Night – starring The Blurr**

Whirl remembered that one. He'd seen it shortly after his big change in appearance and before realizing how frustrating watching a bit of porn without hands could be. But that was the glory of an experience stick. He wouldn't be watching this time. He'd be _experiencing_.

"Enough teasin'," Whirl said to himself as he popped the access panel on the side of his chest. Experience sticks were made to plug right into the port another mech would if cables were being swapped. It clicked in, and Whirl let his firewalls and systems scan it for any nasties. That would have been a buzzkill, but with his continued -frankly brilliant- luck the stick was clean.

Whirl worked his shoulders back against the wall, shut his optic, and engaged the program.

Experience sticks didn't just drag a mech down into it. There was a level of separation there, and Whirl melded into it nice and slow. Like sinking into a warm oil bath over cannonballing into one. First came the visual feed.

On an ornately wrought berth, which was draped in shiny, sleek imported fabrics and piled high with fluffy pillows, lounged a _very_ pretty mech. He looked as Towers as he was meant to, all smooth plating and soft curves. Platinum and silver plating _glistened_ in the gentle white light of the glow orbs propped around the berth on dainty pedestals.

Next came sound.

"I just don't feel up to this today." Whirl recognized Blurr's voice, and the image swung away from the berth to settle on the annoyed face of a green and gold mech. The gold was a touch gaudy, like the mech was trying and failing to look like a Towerling himself. "It was a crazy night at the club."

Last came sensation and even a light glaze of emotion- or what was supposed to be a 'light glaze' of emotion.

Fear made his spark clench and his lines feel too cold. "I feel sick. I'm exhausted."

"You knew we were recording today, Blurr," Green-and-Gold said.

"I forgot. I was celebrating." He edged back, but the strong hands of a 'crew member' gripped his upper arms, just tight enough to be threatening and a little painful without causing visible damage.

Green-and-Gold heaved a put upon sigh. "Well, that's just too bad. We're doing this. Now get on the berth, Blurr."

"I really just… can't," he said, tanks roiling dangerously. He trembled, knew the cold terror showed on his face and was there in his field. "I really do feel sick. My tanks… I can't interface right now."

Another sigh, and Green-and-Gold scrubbed a hand over his face. "And what do I tell your sponsor, hm?" he asked, pacing forward. "Blurr's not cooperating, sorry sir. I'm sure that will go over beautifully."

He gasped as his wrist was grabbed, the medical access on his forearm opened. "No! Please! Some other day. I- What are you doing?" he cried as a syringe was jabbed into an energon line.

"Helping you interface." Green-and-Gold tucked away the syringe and closed the access panel with a pat. "Like it or not, your body will do what needs done. Though I suggest you get your aft on that berth, and _look_ like you're liking it!"

He was shoved toward the berth, the pretty mech giggling and reaching for him.

"Come on, sweetspark," purred the mech. "You know how good I am."

He was _repulsed_ , and his tanks rolled again, nausea rising in a tide that he only forced back through sheer, desperate will. The punishment would be severe if he made a mess on these expensive fabrics.

"Get a move on, Blurr! We're ready to record," Green-and-Gold snapped, then went one step more and threatened, "It'd be a shame if something happened to those fancy legs of yours."

The dainty cooed and pulled him down, each light touch igniting a fire in his lines. He whimpered, a thin sound of protest from a one who had already lost the fight. "I really don't want-"

A too-practiced mouth pressed to his, cutting off the words and-

Whirl ripped the experience stick from his port and heard it clatter against the far wall. It took a few tries to get his optic online, and his gyros were busy arguing over which way was up, but he could see it. Undamaged, the little device rested innocently a pace and a half inside Whirl's door, right in the middle of a square decking plate. The sound of taxed vents filled his room, and for a long few minutes, Whirl could only stare at the experience stick in utter and complete horror.

"Oh frag me," he whispered.

~ | ~

Blurr groaned and dragged the bolster from over his head as the pinging at his door continued. Primus slag it all! He'd _finally_ gotten in a good run on the station and managed to wear himself out. His legs ached wonderfully. He was still a bit warm even, and now someone was out there abusing his poor keypad.

"What?!" Blurr demanded, glaring up at Whirl when the door finally opened.

"The frag is this?!" Whirl demanded in return, shoving a small memory stick up under Blurr's nose.

Blurr took it to keep it from falling on the floor, but his optics were on Whirl as his fellow Wrecker stomped into his quarters. At least he hadn't shoved Blurr over. The Racer rolled his optics and shut the door. Sometimes with Whirl it was just best to play along until he could figure out what the crazy rotor-head was on about.

Then Blurr's gaze dropped to the memory stick, and his vents stalled. Energon froze in his lines, and the world gave a funny lurch. "Where did you get this?" He recognized it. Of course he did. It was the last of the pornographic movies he was forced to make. The last, but only by sheer luck of the war starting and crashing the economy.

"Little shop on the station here," Whirl replied. He was pacing back and forth, not a long trek given the small size of quarters on the _Xanthium_.

"Five shanix," Blurr said, noting the price tag and feeling his spark sink. Was that all his violation was worth?

"Got it for three though."

Blurr looked up, knowing he was gaping a bit.

Whirl waved an arm and shook his helm. "Not important. Little alien slagger didn't know what he had there. What I want to fucking know though, is _what_ the slag that is?" One pincer jabbed at the experience stick as Whirl stopped in front of Blurr to loom over him. His field reeked in disgust and anger.

Blurr felt all the weight of what he'd hoped to be forgotten press down on his shoulders. Worse, of all mechs, he had never thought _Whirl_ would judge him for performing in a few movies. "I had no choice." Which was a thin defense. Blurr had certainly done plenty more risqué things in his life. Some of them _with_ Whirl.

"Well no slag there, Zippy!" Whirl shouted, both arms flying into the air.

Blurr looked up, ready to move _fast_ if one of those arms came down at him, but both just clanged off Whirl's sides as he dropped them.

"That's the problem, ain't it?" Which made Blurr blink in confusion before he twigged on to the fact that Whirl wasn't disgusted with _him_. Relief swept through him as, again, a pincer was jabbed at the stick, this time even tapping it. "I got all kinds of excited. I remember this flick. You and that shiny little mech went on for _ever_ , in every position possible, and some I still don't believe are! I was all ready to dive right on in and frag that piece of dainty through the berth myself, but then I get in there, and instead of lust and joy and all that epic goodness that pours off you when we're fraggin', I get nausea and terror. Then that jerk stuck you. _Drugged_ you!"

Blurr held up a hand to stop Whirl and noticed how hard it shook.

Whirl closed a pincer around Blurr's wrist in a careful, gentle grip. "There's a word for what happened there, Blurr."

"Don't," Blurr rasped then repeated it louder. "Don't." Pulling away, his gaze dropped back to his hand and the stick cradled so unassumingly in his palm. "They're supposed to be edited. Cleaned up so only the good stuff gets through."

"Was it just that one?" Whirl asked, and Blurr shot a glare back over his shoulder at him. Sometimes he was tempted to install that lacking of processor to mouth filter with a fist.

"Of course not!" Blurr snapped as he whipped around. The stick was held up in display. "It was like this nearly every time. Not _as_ bad, but it grew. And they _knew_ it was growing! They _knew_ how much I hated it, and that's how Axel knew to have that drug on hand. But I was too stupid to grasp just how _much_ of my emotions were recorded. _This_ ," he shoved the experience stick up at Whirl's optic, "shouldn't exist! This is sick! Why would you buy this?! Why would you _play_ it!" His voice had gone shrill, vents heaving, optics burning until Whirl's optic became a smear of yellow light.

"Aw, Zippy," Whirl crooned, arms wrapping around Blurr and dragging him in against his side.

Blurr was too used to curling around Whirl for comfort when he needed it to resist the embrace. One arm hooked up around the protrusion of Whirl's chest, the other around his narrow waist, and Blurr tucked his face into a considerately lowered shoulder.

"Didn't know it was this," Whirl said. "I'd have paid ten times that to get this thing off the shelf if I'd known, and I sure as slag wouldn't have plugged it in."

"It says 'unedited' right on the bottom."

Whirl removed one arm from around Blurr and tipped the Racer's hand to see the stick. "Well frag me. I missed that. What sick fragger would want to _feel_ -"

Blurr left the unfinished comment alone. He understood it, though he hadn't known his _own_ experience had been sold off like that. Really, he should have suspected. Even he didn't mind a little play-acting coercion himself when he was in the mood for it. It was _safe_ when it was for the fun of all involved. And experience sticks were safe for the users.

"I'm sorry, Zippy," Whirl said, his voice almost too gentle for Blurr as he scrambled to control his emotions.

"It was a long time ago," the Racer said, though he knew that didn't matter. Not really.

Whirl made a noise that meant nothing and everything all at once. In the very next instant, he perked up, hauling Blurr right off his feet to dangle in his arms. "I have an idea."

"Oh Primus," Blurr groaned, but it was too late, they were out the door, and rather than put him down, Whirl hiked Blurr up into his arms better. The trouble with being so light, Blurr thought. Sure, it was fun when he _wanted_ a lover to carry him off, but not all the time.

"Whirl!" Blurr huffed, squirming.

"Hang on." Whirl deposited Blurr in front of the weapons locker and pointed. "Get your rifle. They got a range here."

Blurr was already tapping in his code. "No they don't."

"They got a roof and we can manage just fine out in space for a few minutes." Whirl bumped his elbow against Blurr's shoulder. "Come on. Hurry up. This is gonna be great."

Blurr grinned, grabbed the rifle when the locker opened, and followed Whirl out a separate airlock from the docking tube that led into the station. He convinced Whirl that from the top of the _Xanthium_ was just as good as from the top of the station. Springer was less than pleased with the reports of two Cybertronians shooting at other ships, but when he found them, Kup was already there winging random scraps of metal off into space for Blurr and Whirl to shoot.

Blurr only put up a minor fuss for show, grinning from audial to audial, as Springer dragged all three of them inside. The first target had been that blasted experience stick, and it was _satisfying_ to know that was destroyed. Blurr tugged Whirl into his quarters, ignoring Springer's huff and Kup's laugh. He had a better thank you in mind, but a nice romp in the berth before they cleaned the rifle would be a good start.

~ | ~

"Hey, Zippy," Whirl greeted when the door slid aside to reveal the little Racer. "S'up?"

"Have a little something for you." Blurr held up what looked like a memory stick, but Whirl recognized the jack and took a step back.

"Uh… Much as a clean copy would be hot and all, just knowing…"

But Blurr was grinning, the stick still held out in offering. "Which is exactly why I made you this. But it's for _you_ , and only you. Enjoy it, but don't share it."

Whirl took the experience stick, noting the title scratched out on the side, a new etching in Blurr's loopy script on the top proclaimed **For Whirl**. "You can make new sticks?"

"I never thought to delete the program," Blurr replied. One hand waved at the stick. "That was fun to make, so you can enjoy it without guilt or worry." He winked one optic and left without another word, leaving Whirl to lean out his door and admire the view.

"Thanks, Zippy!" Whirl called, then ducked back inside. He parked his aft on the berth, fiddling with the little rectangle in his pincers before finally deciding to just plug it in and see what Blurr had done.

Virus scans pinged the all-clear, and Whirl sank into the immersion, visual loading first. At least, it should have, but everything was black. Sound should have loaded next, but it was silent. Had Blurr pranked him?

Then sensation loaded, and Whirl gasped as a trickle of warm arousal followed a sweeping line of a fingertip up and down his thigh. The black disappeared to be replaced by the view of a familiar and pretty, blue-lit silver spike, and the silence fell away to the sound of a soft sigh. He grinned, pleasure flowing through him with a sense of gratitude and anticipation. That teasing finger moved up, then up more, then dragged along the side of the spike to zing bliss across his sensornet.

Then… Primus help him, _then_ those sleek fingers wrapped around the length near the base and gave a slow, delicious pull up all the way to the tip.

"Oh, Zippy," Whirl moaned before sliding back down into the full experience.


End file.
